


Day 15 Prompt Me Compilation

by InLust



Series: Holiday Writing Dash 2015 [3]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Elementary (TV), Game of Thrones (TV), Person of Interest (TV), Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Allusions to abuse, Alternate Universe, Angst, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Attempted Rape, Canonical Character Death, Criminal Masterminds, Depression, F/F, Fear of Flying, Fluff, Jessica Jones AU, Miss Congeniality AU, Modern AU, Role Reversal, hate of christmas, private investigation au, spy families
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-16
Updated: 2015-12-17
Packaged: 2018-05-07 01:00:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5437604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InLust/pseuds/InLust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I have a lot of prompts today, I don't know how it happened. I'll try to post as many as I've done though! If I have time I'll add more to it tomorrow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Skimmons + Jemma's family

**Author's Note:**

> The prompt for this chapter is: Skimmons/Bioquake + coming home for Christmas and/or introducing s/o to parents
> 
> this is a sort of prequel/backstory for Jemma in Guns, Sex, and Family hope you enjoy! Featuring spy families

Jemma  _hates_ Christmas.

Well, it’s not that she hates it _per se_ but she hates _coming home_  for it. It’s such a chore because all her parents ever want to do is shop talk. Despite the rule that they’ve set up about no shop talk during the holidays.

It honestly was not a difficult concept to grasp but every time it involved Jemma, it was easy for her _family of spies_ to turn it into shop talk.

“So Jemma, how are you doing at work?” Mrs. Simmons asks as she sets down the honeybaked ham. She hands her husband the carving knife as she moves to pour herself a glass of wine.

“Are you still working with  _that girl_?” her brother, James, asks on top of that. He is sipping his scotch looking all smug.

Jemma shoots daggers at him. Her parents were unaware of her excursion at her last company that resulted in her termination there.  _Now_ , she was working with Daisy at  _084 Investigations_ and maybe, they were becoming an item.  _Maybe_.

“Work is fine, mum, very... _excitable_ ,” Jemma finally responds as she reaches for the bottle of wine herself.

Her father suddenly grunts. “What’s this about a  _girl_?” he picks up where her brother leaves off. The carving knife seems to do its job too well under her father’s rule.

The scientist cringes. “Just--my  _boss_ , you know,” she tries her best to evade.

“Daisy Johnson?” her mother chimes in cheerfully. She has a teasing smile on her face. “Is that who you’ve been on about since that last job?”

“Mum…” Jemma whines through her glass trying not to grab the attention of her father.

“She’s definitely been  _on her_ ,” James lewdly adds as he finishes his glass of scotch.

Her father actually laughs as he finishes carving through the ham. Her mother rolls her eyes as she holds out her plate for her father to place a slice. Jemma grumbles. Her parents were always enablers.

 _Come on, Jem, shoot the gun the bottle isn’t going to shoot itself._ Her father.

 _Jemma, dear, you’ve got his attraction, now use it against him._  Her mother.

 _Little sister, who cares about rules? There’s only a mission to accomplish._ Even her brother.

_Enablers in the worst way possible._

“Tell us about her, dear, you never tell us anything about your life,” her mother adds further as her father walks around the table to serve her brother and herself.

“It’s not like we won’t find out who she is eventually,” Mr. Simmons encourages with a smile. He leans down to kiss his daughter on the head. “Besides, it’s my duty to make sure you’re in good hands.”

Jemma rolls her eyes. “It’s nothing even significant. We haven’t even had a proper date.”

“Ah!” James exclaims suddenly. “ _Points off._ Give us more, Jem, it’ll really give her a reason to run.  _Or_...I can show mum and dad the  _dossier_ I found on her.” He smiles brightly as he pulls out a manila folder from his blazer.

“You can’t do this!” Jemma whines further, her cheeks turning red. She reaches over to grab the folder when he bats her hand away. “James, do  _not_ give that to mum and dad.”

“Is there something we shouldn’t see?” her mum asks curiously. She reaches for the folder.

Jemma tries to seize it once more when James grabs her wrist. She quickly brings out her fist to his face but his hand shoots up to block it. She pulls her wrist out of his grasp and quickly swings back to knock him in the throat. He coughs out in pain before letting her fist go and sliding back from the table with the chair and folder in hand.

“ _James_ ,” her father’s voice calls sternly.

Jemma stops halfway out of her seat with her fists raised and the siblings turn to their father. Mr. Simmons holds out his hand for the folder. James slides his chair back towards the table and hands him the folder. Jemma sits down deflated.

“Jemma, you must work on your hand to hand combat, you’re getting a little rusty,” her mother says as she pours wine into her glass for her. “Maybe later tonight, we should spar.”

Jemma pouts. Sometimes, she hates coming from a family of spies. But otherwise, Christmas dinner wouldn’t be nearly as  _exciting_.


	2. Joaniarty + role reversal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> original prompt was joaniarty + spiked eggnog
> 
> i took it and ran with it into an alternate universe where Jamie is Sherlock's partner and Joan is the criminal mastermind that pisses them off on occasion (and sleeps with Jamie...on occasion)

Jamie is coming down the stairs of the Brownstone when she hears the doorbell ring. She sees Sherlock peering up from the bottom of the steps looking at her with curiosity.

Even if it is the holiday season and cases could come up, it’s not like her and Sherlock didn’t enjoy a day off. While she was going to be finding new ways to utilize Clyde in a simulation, Sherlock was going to  _exercise_ his excess energy. Clearly, the look on his face suggests that he was not expecting  _company_ so soon.

Jamie gets to the bottom of the stairs as he opens the door.

“ _You_ ,” Sherlock snarls at whomever stands at the door.

Jamie knows that snarl. It’s only happened a few times for very specific people. More recently, for  _one_ specific person.

“You’re looking a little tired,” the woman retorts playfully at Sherlock.

To be quite frank, even Jamie is surprised at how their guest seems to move through the doorway with ease. More importantly, Jamie is surprised that she is even  _there_.

“You’re looking a little evil,  _Watson_ ,” Sherlock returns with disdain.

Watson stands at the doorway looking like any other person in a black top underneath a leather bomber jacket and simple jeans. The woman looks pedestrian, the way a thin layer of snow is caked onto her beanie and her nose is bright red from the cold.

“ _Jamie_!” she exclaims with evil excitement.

Jamie remains stoic to the woman’s advances. At least, as best as she can considering Joan Watson’s criminal artwork is hard to stay away from. While Sherlock helps a great deal, Jamie hates being bested by the woman.

“Don’t make that face now,” Watson croons calmly as she lifts her hand that’s been holding something.

Jamie sees Sherlock raise his eyebrows. It’s a bottle in her hands and it looks like a bottle of eggnog.

“Is there a reason  _why_ you are here?” Sherlock snaps quickly.

“I’m not here for  _you_ if that’s what you’re asking,” Watson informs casually. She nods her head towards Jamie. “Nor am I here to plot any deviance.”

“No doubt those plans have already been set in motion,” Sherlock retorts with sass.

Watson neither confirms nor denies this.

Jamie knows  _why_ Watson is here and walks over to the woman. She takes the bottle of eggnog out of the shorter woman’s hands. “Thank you for the gift, now, if you please, Sherlock and I have important cases to catch up on,” Jamie says quickly as she ushers the woman out. She doesn’t want to have this conversation with Watson in front of Sherlock, even if Sherlock’s already deduced it. He’s been relentless since he found out about Watson’s infatuation with Jamie. Jamie just does her best to deflect the woman when she can.

“We should share that,” Joan argues as she steps outside the door. “Would it surprise you to know that you’ve been on my mind, Jamie?”

Jamie rolls her eyes. Now is  _not_ the time because she knows what look Sherlock is shooting to the back of her head. “ _Goodbye_ , Joan.”

The criminal mastermind opens her mouth to say something but Jamie promptly shuts the door on her. She lets out a small sigh before turning around to Sherlock. She looks at the bottle thoughtfully.

“Rohypnol? GHB? Or ketamine?” Jamie asks.

Sherlock reads her mind and answers, “No doubt she’d lace it with a tranquilizer.”

“Care to run some tests with me?”

“What’re the odds?”

Jamie smiles brightly as she makes her way to the living room where their makeshift lab is. “I win she kidnaps you. You win she kidnaps me.”

Sherlock rolls his eyes. “You want her to kidnap you anyways.”


	3. Cat/Kara + fear of flying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Supergirl helps Cat get over her fear of flying
> 
> or me flinging myself into this fandom as trash

Kara doesn’t know why she finds it exciting to know that her boss, Cat, the CEO of CatCo is afraid of flying. To be honest, she kind of wishes she’s seen it before. All those trips that Cat tells Kara to plan in advance to either get a driver for or train for should’ve been a dead giveaway.

“Well, I am not my mother, not all of us travel by  _flying broomsticks_ ,” Cat argues with a cross of her arms.

Kara giggles.

It’s after work and no one is in the office save for the two of them. Since Cat found out about Supergirl’s  _normal_ identity, they’ve been able to converse more freely about her life saving events after work.

“Besides, I don’t know what this has to do with anything,” Cat adds on as she places her glasses on her desk.

Kara reaches for her boss’s hand and starts pulling her towards the balcony.

“What’re we doing now, Keira?” the older woman huffs out, trying to sound annoyed.

Kara jumps onto the ledge and it makes Cat gasp. Suddenly, she feels a hand tug her back. “I’m not going to fall, did you forget I am  _Supergirl_?”

Cat’s cheeks turn pink as she lets go of Kara’s hand. Kara doesn’t let go though and tugs slightly.

“Do you trust me?” Kara asks.

Cat rolls her eyes and deadpans, “Of course, I do, you’re my guardian angel.”

Kara shakes her head at the woman’s blatant attempts to thwart any touchy feely moments. She uses her strength to haul the woman onto the ledge with her and hears the squeal of fear before Cat falls into her arms.

“Are you trying to kill me?” Cat exclaims as she leans back from Kara.

Kara laughs at how flustered Cat is. For a woman that is normally so composed and in power, Cat looks like a frightened kitten clinging onto Kara.

“Hold on tight,” Kara says as she slips an arm around Cat’s waist. “The best way to get rid of a fear is to  _conquer_ it.”

“No, no,  _no_! This is not what I meant for you to do when I mentioned my fear of heights,” Cat argues as she automatically wraps her arms around Kara’s neck for security.

Kara holds one arm out and leaps into the air. Cat buries her face into her neck and screams while clinging onto her guardian angel for her dear life. All Kara can do laugh as she holds on to Cat and fly laps around the city.


	4. Root/Shaw + miss congeniality au

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shoot prompt. "Sorry Sameen, do it for the mission."
> 
> me flinging myself into SHOOT feels this is a lot more playful than anything else. (i heard sarah shahi’s texan accent like once and died) all I have to say is Miss Congeniality AU

Shaw glowers into the mirror before her as she mutters, “I am ten seconds away from  _killing_ the next person that touches me.”

“Oh, come on,  _sweetie_ ,” Root’s gleeful voice sings in her ears. “You’re looking good with all that primping.  _It really does suit you_.”

Shaw doesn’t dignify Root’s compliment with a response and fixes her swimwear to  _actually_ cover her ass. “Can you explain to me why  _you_ aren’t the one doing this?”

“The Machine asked for you,” Root says cheerfully, her proud tone is relentless, “and she has her reasons.”

Throwing aside the towel, she reaches for the matching cloth to tie around her waist. “Is she trying to  _starve_ me? I haven’t had a meal with carbs in five days. How do these people even survive without some  _damn_ pizza?”

“Sorry Sameen,” Root affectionately croons, “do it for the mission.”

“The mission can kiss my--”

There’s a tap on Shaw’s shoulder and she grabs for his neck on reflex. The poor sound guy looks terrified in her clutches and she is glad. Someone  _should_ pay for starving her. “Sorry, miss,” he coughs out. Shaw realizes she should probably let him go.

“Oh my! I’m sawry, sweetheart,” she responds quickly throwing an embarrassed smile on her face. “I didn’t mean to hurchya.” Her accent comes out strong and easily that the sound guy just looks at her with an apologetic face. “Somethin’ ya need?”

“You’re on in 10,” he informs quickly, learning from his previous mistakes. If he said more than 10 words to her, he was guaranteed a killer glare. He leaves the dressing room quickly.

“I  _love_ your accent,” Root chimes in once the sound guy is out of the room. “You should teach me sometime.”

“Before or after, I  _kill_ you?” Shaw threatens as she starts walking out of the room. She slips on the sash before she closes the door. Just outside of the stage the rest of the women are flocking, cheerfully speaking to one another about their excitement.

“You can’t kill a judge, that will work against you, and we need you in the finalist group,” Root reminds.

“Oh come on, is our number going to actually make it that far? She’s like a puppy,” Shaw mutters as she makes her way towards the group. She lets out a sigh as she sees Claire Mahoney happily chatting away. “This better be worth it, Root.”

“I can make it worth your while,” Root flirts.

Shaw rolls her eyes and shuts off the comm.  _Time to get to work._

“Oh there she is!” Claire says with excitement. She is bouncing in her spot reach for Shaw with her sash saying Miss Rhode Island bounces along with her. “Miss Texas!”

“Hey ya’ll! Miss me much?” Shaw returns with same level of enthusiasm.

On the inside, Shaw feels her soul dying.


	5. Sansaery + christmas AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> GET READY FOR FEELS 
> 
> Prompt; ''Sansa has never enjoyed Christmas after her family died, until Margaery came along'' / or / Sansaerys first Christmas together.
> 
> well kind of feels...enjoy!

For all that Margaery has known Sansa, she's never made a big fuss over Christmas. At  _most_ , Sansa makes singular responses over anything involving Christmas. She beams at the decorations but never sets them up. She brightens at the treats and cookies but never eats them. She smiles all around her but the smile never reaches her eyes.

It’s their last year in college together when Margaery looks at Sansa and asks, “Can I come home with you?”

Sansa stops taking notes on her political science course and looks at Margaery as if she’d grown three dragons heads.

“ _For Christmas_?” Margaery clarifies quickly. “Can I come home  _with you_?”

For a moment, Sansa turns away and continues to take notes diligently. “I am afraid that it’ll be far too  _dull_ in Winterfell.” She snorts a laugh. “It’ll also be much  _colder_ there than in the Reach.”

Margaery pauses for a moment. She hadn’t even considered the cold. Sometimes she forgets that the old house sigil of the Starks’ was “Winter is Coming.” If anyone south of Harenhaal even thinks it’s cold as winter approaches, Margaery was sure to freeze.

“I just want to spend time with you,” Margaery continues as she sidles up next to the red head. She wraps her arms around her waist and settles her chin on her shoulder. “Can we do that? Spend Christmas  _together_?”

The quiet girl still doesn’t answer right away. Margaery’s known her long enough to hear the gears turning in her head before she reaches a response. “Wouldn’t your family miss you?”

“Not as much as  _I_  would miss  _you_ ,” Margaery playfully nips at the other girl’s earlobe. She is quickly batted away with a laugh.

Sansa turns her head and meets Margaery’s lips slowly. She kisses with such promise. “I think about it,” she says.

\-----------------------

A few days later, Sansa slides into bed after a late night of exams and cuddles up behind her. Margaery is extremely tired after work and barely registers her presence. She turns her head for a kiss and feels Sansa’s cold lips against hers.

“You’re back late,” she mutters sleepily.

Sansa makes a sound of agreement. A silence falls between them for a moment.

Margaery is close to falling asleep again when she hears, “Come with me to Winterfell. I want to be _with you_.” Margaery smiles as she falls asleep in Sansa’s arms.

As the trip rolls closer, Margaery becomes anxious. She knows that she’ll be meeting the Starks’ head of the household, her ever loving brother, Robb.

\-----------------------

“It’s  _Margaery_ , she wants to come,” Sansa says through the phone a week before their trip. Margaery stares from her desk trying not to pry but overhearing Sansa’s end of the conversation anyways. “No...you  _can’t_ do that. You’re  _not father_...Of course, your opinion matters... _Don’t_ drag her into this...she’ll make fun of me to no end.” There’s a loud laugh from the other end of the phone and Sansa grimaces. “ _Fine_. Do what you want. They’re all busy, I am  _sure_ of it.”

Sansa says that not all of the Starks usually make it home for Christmas but she’s surprised when she mentions to Robb that Margaery was coming, the rest of the Starks would be joining them.

Margaery feels special being the  _first_ person Sansa’s bringing home.

\----------------------

Margaery thought that Sansa would be  _happy_ being home with her family with Christmas. That maybe the distant looks she gives off while she’s in King’s Landing is just a front she uses to hide how much she secretly loves Christmas.

It doesn’t make the red head any happier than when she is in school. If anything, it makes Margaery feel like she just pressured the girl into inviting her over for something she  _really_ hated coming home to. She starts to have doubts about everything and prays that Sansa doesn’t hate her right now for asking to come to Winterfell.

Margaery watches the Stark siblings set up the Christmas decorations under Robb’s orders and tries to help where she can. Sansa doesn’t help though, she simply says she’ll prepare dinner and disappears into the kitchen. When Margaery offers help, Sansa brushes it off.

She is holding up the tinsel for Robb to wrap around the tree when he says to her, “She doesn’t like Christmas.”

Margaery gives him a curious look.

“She doesn’t really like to talk about it in the winter, really. Mum and dad used to be the harbingers of spirit up until the accident,” Robb reveals as best as he can. “Sansa was there out of all of us.” He reaches as far back around the tree as he can before deciding it’s far enough. “I don’t think she’s ever really gotten over it.”

Margaery whispers a thank you and dutifully continues helping him. She wants to say more but knows better than to test that. For the rest of the night, she watches Sansa work her way around the kitchen and wonders what Sansa is thinking of the whole time.

\----------------------

Margaery is about to go for a shower at the end of the night when she catches bit of Sansa talking to her younger sister, Arya.

“ _She makes you happy_ ,” Arya pokes playfully. “ _Seems like you might be in love with her_.”

“I  _do_ love her,” Sansa says a matter of factly. It brings a smile to Margaery’s lips as she moves to interrupt the conversation to not overhear anything else.

“Have you told her yet? About the  _accident_?”

Margaery freezes. She doesn’t mean to but it doesn’t sound like something she should interrupt. This is the second time it’s been mentioned.

Sansa lets out a sigh that Margaery can vividly imagine. An answer comes slowly after, “It doesn’t matter.”

“Of course, it does. Sansa, you don’t talk to  _us_.You  _never_ talk to us. At least talk to  _her_.”

Margaery stops listening and pushes the door open to reveal her presence. “Sorry, where’s the bathroom?” she asks as if she didn’t hear a word they said.

\----------------------

Margaery starts to get cold under the covers as she feels a shift in the bed. She lets the covers slide against her naked body before she realizes Sansa’s warmth is completely gone. She wakes up, alert that she’s alone.

When she looks around the room, she sees, Sansa standing at the window in only her flannel shirt, looking out into the grey. The blue bounces off and kisses her body. It reflects off her pale skin and she looks almost translucent. She looks like a ghost for a moment.

Margaery sits up and pulls the sheet around her chest. She steps onto the shaggy rug, thankful that it’s warm.

Sansa notices that she’s awake. “Go back to sleep,” she says softly.

Margaery stands instead, wrapping the sheet around her body. She walks over to where the redhead is standing and looks out. Everything is blanketed in white. It looks beautiful. She looks up at Sansa and sees the faraway look on her face.

Biting the bottom of her lip, she opens the sheet and pulls Sansa into it before wrapping them in the sheet.

Sansa’s cool hands fall on Margaery’s waist.

Margaery looks into her blue eyes. She sees it all, the sadness and distance that makes it hard for Sansa to be happy around this time of year. She understands something’s happened to her little dove. It takes time though. Margaery tries to understand that it takes time.

She loves Sansa. So, Margaery lets a smile fall on her lips, hoping that Sansa can feel the same way she does. Because everyone has lost  _someone_ , but that never means anyone is ever  _alone_.

Margaery tiptoes to meet Sansa’s lips. She tries not to let go of the sheet as she wraps her arms around Sansa’s shoulders. She smiles into the kiss as Sansa returns it passionately.

When they break apart for air, Margaery doesn’t let go. She brushes her nose against Sansa’s to whisper, “I love you.”

Sansa’s smile is small but for the first time, Margaery sees her blue eyes twinkle with happiness. Sansa kisses her once more and whispers, “Thank you.”


	6. Sansaery + jessica jones au

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anything angsty really, I'm just feeling the angst right now. I was thinking about the scene where Sansa is like attacked / raped nearly when they are walking through the streets and what if that happened in a modern world and Margaery was there to save / comfort her afterwards.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> savage for all these feels but i mean i don't know why i thought JESSICA JONES AU but i did and i think it turned out pretty well :D ENJOY

Sansa rolls her neck as she gets out of work. She walks through security and says her goodbyes. Even if she’s tired to the bone, Sansa is determined to get home to make it to her trainer. She rubs her eyes as she walks.

She checks her messages to see if there were any updates from Margaery. Her heart sinks slightly when she sees none.

It makes it hard for her to live like this. To know that there were bad people out there that could hurt people she  _cared_ about. Margaery’s man from the shadows had come back. And now she was off investigating _god knows what_. What makes it worse is that Sansa can’t do  _anything_ to help her.

She feels the bruises on her arms, the soreness in her muscles, but nothing weighs on her like Margaery does. For months without talking to each other, it tears into her heart to see Margaery  _helpless_.

Sansa learned the hard way growing up. She was helpless without realizing it. She never wanted a hero to save her. It was part of her life. Being thrusted into the hands of Petyr Baelish. His deceits and lies created hell in her life just so that she could survive in an industry she grew to hate.

She promised never to let someone make her feel controlled and weak ever again. Her voice is an inspiration to many. Sansa tries to speak out on issues that can  _actually_ help people. Or at least, she  _tries_ to help as many people as she can.

If she could be the hero Margaery was, that would mean the  _world_.

As she makes her way towards the subway, she’s so tired she doesn’t register the threatening presence around her. Sansa feels something loom in her heart but ignores it for the sake of her sanity.

Before she can process it, hands are covering her mouth and wrapping around her waist. She tries to kick and scream but they’re all muffled as she gets pulled into the darkness.

Her heart beats wildly inside of her and her mind is screaming with her body. She tries her best to fight back but there isn’t just one attacker.

A sharp pain shoots to the back of her head as it collides against the brick wall. In the alley, she can smell the poor scent of piss and trash. She tries to see her assailants in the limited light.

Someone croons that _it’s Alayne Stone all grown up_. It’s vile on their lips and Sansa feels her heart drop to her stomach. She stares as one man has her pinned up against the wall while the other practically salivates behind him. The look on his face shoots her back to memories she’s tried to forget.

Thinking back to her training, Sansa brings her knee up to the guy that has her pinned against the wall. He doubles over, setting her free. She quickly clasps her hands together and brings them down on his back harshly.

The other one yells and grabs for her. She yanks her arm away with all of her strength but he manages to land a harsh punch against her jawbone that sends a ringing to her ears.

The ground meets her with another punch and for a second, Sansa is breathless. She feels a grab at her shoulder before she’s hauled up again. Her hand comes up and bats the arm away before she grabs at the guy’s wrist and uses her body weight to flip him to the ground.

He lets out a loud groan as he hands on the ground with a thud. It brings satisfaction to her ears.

Just as she tries to make her way out of the alley, she feels a harsh pull again. The first guy she kneed managed to get up again.

“Fucking bitch,” he hisses into her face as he uses his arm to pin her by her neck.

Sansa struggles to breath, clawing at his arm. He slaps her to get her to stop struggle. Sansa keeps trying. Her stomach sinks. She’s scared. He’s hurting her and she’s used all of her strength to fight them.

In the corner of her eyes, she sees the other one get up. “Are we going to do her or what?” he snaps with that disgusting look on his face.

Sansa’s eyes widen as she struggles to fight back. It’s no use. She feels her jacket being tugged open and hands roam her body. She wants to cry out but can’t. Her whole body trembles because her vision is going dark. She keeps screaming in her mind, hoping the sound could come out.

“Hey! _Get the fuck off of her_!” a voice yells through the alley. Sansa feels her heart elevate at the sound of Margaery’s voice.

The arm at Sansa’s throat slackens. She tries to catch her breath but the first thing she does is bring her foot up square towards the guy’s balls. He doubles over and the other one rushes towards the voice.

Sansa struggles to regain stability before she sees brown hair under the hazy light. The man going after her is easily grabbed by his neck and tossed aside.

“Fuck off, buddy, touch her again and I kill you with my  _laser vision_ ,” Margaery’s voice threatens as she gives him a clean kick. The guy is a bumbling, frightened mess and nods at the threat before stumbling to run away.

Margaery doesn’t greet Sansa but goes for the guy that’s moaning in pain at her feet. She picks him up with ease. “If I ever catch you again, you’re gonna  _pay_ ,” she threatens further. Sansa moves to say something but Margaery tosses him to the ground. “Get out of here.” He nods and fearfully runs off.

The silence looms through the alleyway as she stands there with Margaery suddenly next to her. It’s almost a relief to see the woman there. She can almost ignore how she felt moments ago. But she can’t. Even now, Margaery is  _still_ saving her.

Sansa doesn’t have the strength that Margaery does. She can’t throw guys around like ragdolls and act as if she’s invincible. She’s still going to be that helpless little girl.

Margaery sighs as she looks up at Sansa, “ _Shit_...are you crying?” she asks carefully as her fingerless gloved hands reach up to gently cup Sansa’s cheek.

For all the strength and superpower that Margaery has, Sansa still feels like glass in her hands. She shakes her head.

“I’m sorry,” she says trying to pull away. Her eyes start to sting. She looks up to keep the tears from falling. Margaery hates emotions. “Just something in my eyes.”

“Hey, hey,” Margaery insists pulling her back for their eyes to meet. Sansa curses as a tear slips. Margaery’s thumb brushes the tear away and grasp Sansa’s face with more security. “You’re okay, Sansa, you hear me? You’re  _okay_.”

Sansa feels her vision blur and she falls into Margaery’s arms. She buries her face in the crook of the shorter woman’s neck and cries. Thankful that she saved her. “You saved me,  _asshole_.”

Margaery laughs. “I can’t help it.”

Sansa laughs through her tears. Even though, Margaery smells of leather and whiskey, Sansa feels safe. 


	7. Sansaery + mental health

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She gets like this some days. They both do. All they can do is be there for each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: prompt: I'm not sure if there are any themes or topics you don't want to write about or feel comfortable about but I saw a prompt the other day like ''Person A and depression, person B has anxiety. They work well together / balance each other out'' kind of thing [Sansa/Margaery]
> 
> For this, I hope that I was able to capture them with depression and anxiety as best I can. I tried not to sound too prosaic but it has feels. Trigger warnings for depression and anxiety.

Sansa wakes up without moving. Her eyes open and she stares into the ceiling, grey from the ounces of waking sun. She contemplates going back to sleep.

She doesn’t. A small sigh escapes her lips. She wonders when the weight in her chest will go away.

She lays there until it does.

The grey starts to color with pinks and gold. Sansa wishes she could see the beauty in it but it doesn’t matter to her. Nothing really does.

It’s not uncommon. She gets like this. She knows she does.

She looks over to her desk that will face the sun at high noon and evening. Her computer is sleeping, she can see the little light breathing.

She wants to write. She wants to get up. There are things that need to get done.

And she can’t.

She can’t get up. She can’t write. She can’t move.

_Why?_

The weigh in her chest molds and clenches inside of her. She can feel her heart tug. She bites her lips because it becomes overwhelming. She can’t tell what makes it become overwhelming.

The tears are starting to form in her eyes. They spring up sometimes. Sometimes, she waits for herself to cry because sometimes it’s unforgiving. Sansa’s learned sometimes she can’t fight it. Some days, she hopes the moment will pass but it never does.

There’s a loud crash coming from the kitchen. Glass shattering.

Sansa looks over next to her and realizes their bed is empty. Her girlfriend isn’t sleeping next to her.

When she lies awake in bed, she forgets Margaery is there. She’d go to sleep with soft whispers of  _I love you_  and a tight grasp around her waist to remind her she isn’t alone. On some nights, it isn’t  _enough_ to keep her alive.

Sansa gets up. The weight in her chest shifts to her feet as she drags them along.

Margaery’s home. It’s uncommon for Margaery to be home during the day when Olenna needs her in the office.

She sees Margaery on her hands and knees, frantically moving back and forth. The sounds of the glass clinking barely makes Margaery’s heavy breathing noticeable to Sansa.

\----------------------

Margaery feels her heart drop with the glass. Her hands still shake as she realizes the glass is indeed broken.

It makes her frustrated. It makes her hurt. It makes her lost. She can’t even find the beginning of what she’s feeling. The thread has taken so many turns that it’s balled up into a giant knot. Her heart trembles at the thought of even unraveling it.

Margaery knows she has to keep it together. She’s got a career. She’s got a future. She’s got Sansa.

 _Her Sansa._  It brings tears to her eyes. She curses herself as she rushes to pull the trash can closer to the mess.

Sansa hadn’t been eating. She doesn’t look at her directly. She rarely speaks. Margaery knows this.

_She gets like this._

She gets like this and Margaery can’t do anything to help. She can’t even grab a stupid glass without shaking. She curses again as she throws the big chunks of glass into the trash can quickly.

Margaery can barely see through the burning tears. She needs to hold it together. She has to keep moving forward. Tomorrow comes around and Sansa will feel better. She always finds a way to help Sansa feel better.

She can’t do it right now. The election is around the corner. The hours are longer than before in the office. The wrong time off and grandmother will be in trouble.

Margaery sees her hands shake and tries to will herself to stop.

Her vision becomes blurry. It’s only when she feels the glass cut her hand that the tears fall to clear her vision. It doesn’t last. The tears keep coming and she lets it go.

 _She_ gets like this. And Margaery hates it. She can’t do anything when she’s like this. She can’t take care of Sansa like  _this_.

Suddenly, she feels a pair of hands on her shoulders. They stroke her gently before guiding her away from the mess.

When Margaery looks up, her eyes meet Sansa’s bright blue ones. They’ve been grey the last couple of weeks. Making Margaery feel like she’s not enough.

Margaery rubs her eyes of the tears with the back of her hands. She wants to say something witty and light. Her voice croaks and she can’t breathe. She hates it when Sansa sees her like this.

It becomes a game. Reminding herself to compartmentalize her thoughts, to breathe, and to calm down. She doesn’t know which one ever wins but it never happens all at once.

She forces herself to calm down and feels her breathing quicken. Her throat threatens to close up and her head becomes light.

Sansa quickly wraps her arms around her waist and pulls her up into a hug. Margaery automatically buries her face, crying and struggling to breathe, into Sansa’s neck.

“I’m here,  _I’m here_ ,” Sansa chants. Her voice is empty but Margaery can feel her girlfriend shake against her.

_She’s trying. She gets like this. We both do._

“Come back, Marg. Come back to me. I’m still here. I’ll  _always_ be here.”

Under that empty voice, Margaery tries to remind herself that there’s an ounce of promise. There’s an ounce of promise that Sansa’s words are real.

Sansa pulls her back slightly. Margaery clenches her bleeding hands together around Sansa’s neck in fear of losing her. She curses out in ragged breaths.

Sansa ducks her head, lips around hers. She sighs into the kiss and Margaery breathes her in. She cries through the kiss, trying to remember to breath with Sansa’s guidance.  

Sansa’s there. She’ll always be there. Just like Margaery will always be there for her.

Sansa will always remember. Margaery needs her too.

They are each others’ reasons for getting out of bed in the morning some days. 

**Author's Note:**

> holiday writing dash at nocteverbascio.tumblr


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